10 Mundane Days Following Royalty
by SporadicWriter
Summary: An attempt at the BVDN, created by the girls at the 'We're Just Saiyan' community.


**A/N - This is my attempt at the BVDN, going with the autumn theme. Just a bit of this and that, and what ever came to my mind at the time! Hope you enjoy.  
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><p><strong><span>10 Mundane Days Following Royalty<span>**

**Crisp**

There it went again—the summer, the warmth, the greenery. Earth presented so many beauties to his harshened soul that he found it all a bit overwhelming, as he stood on the balcony watching the sun setting over West City. A gust of wind whipped a handful of leaves from the trees, and he watched one spiralling through the air, to land delicately on the railing beside him. He plucked it from the ledge, and it crisped between his fingertips, turning to dust. He looked back into his bedroom at Bulma, asleep in his bed. So many beauties.

**Orange**

The slurping had to stop, otherwise he would return to his murderous ways. He flinched as she did it again, the sound so abhorrent to him he was close to gagging. Why couldn't she just eat it piece by piece? Each segment an easy portion to pop into one's mouth? No, she had to cut it over and across, and smear it all over her face like juvenile street urchin. She sucked each finger, one by one, dumped the peels on the coffee table, before she lunged at him, and slathered his mouth with tangy, orange flavoured kisses.

**Apple**

It was bitter, crisp and made him very gassy, but he couldn't get enough of the stuff. Apparently it had been made from rejected apples that had fallen and bruised, brewed by none other than the old man himself. Vegeta slugged another liberal mouthful, felt the bubbles tickling as they fizzled against his tongue. One thing he could say he somewhat didn't mind about Earth was the variety in alcoholic beverages. Frieza's ship had never heard of such delicacies. He held the glass up, and through it, saw a distorted image of Bulma winking at him from across the table.

**Cotton Sweater**

"Get that off him. _Now_," he said, after catching the most God awful sight he'd ever seen since the pink shirt incident.

The older woman scrunched her face up into what he guessed was despair (he couldn't tell. You could barely see her eyes half the time), and she tugged the end of the sleeves. "It's getting colder out there, Vegeta. Trunksie is going to need something warmer to wear."

"Not with a … What _is_ that-"

She beamed. "A unicorn sweater!"

Trunks looked down at the jumper, waited a couple seconds, eyes widened, and he clapped gleefully.

Vegeta sighed. 

**Chilly**

After training all evening, Vegeta took a stroll around the garden, allowing his mind and body to cool down. But then his stomach gargled and called him to the kitchen to forage. Before entering the house, he chucked a white t-shirt on; he knew how the older woman could get.

Bulma was sat at the table, flicking through a magazine, barely looking as he strode in. "Hey, Vegeta."

He grumbled, spotted the cake in front of her, and targeted it.

She finally looked up and chuckled. "Is it chilly outside?"

He frowned. "What?"

She pointed to his chest. "Bullet nipples!" 

**Changes**

"Quick, quick, you gotta see this," she hollered from the garden.

He dragged his feet as he made his way out, squinting as the bright autumn sun glared at him from between the sparsely leafed trees. She was crouched at the base of the largest tree, arms outstretched towards Trunks, who had plonked himself in the dirt.

What was he supposed to be looking at? Such a waste of time.

"Ok, Trunks, do it again," she said.

Vegeta was about to walk away when something changed his mind.

Trunks, scowling with concentration, levitated off the ground, albeit a couple inches.

**Harvest**

He ducked, narrowly dodged the young Saiyan's flying kick, and turned while crouching to knock him off his feet. Kakarrot's brat wasn't as agile as he once was. He was taller, broader, but stronger? No. The strength he possessed while fighting Cell had diminished, and Vegeta had surpassed him long ago.

Gohan laughed, wiped the mud off his face, got to his feet. "Nice. You're _way_ stronger than me, Vegeta. I didn't stand a chance."

Vegeta sneered, about to gloat, when a hideous shriek rang around the garden—Bulma.

"You said you were doing basic training, not harvesting the lawn!"

**Pumpkin**

"Try it."

It was orange, but not like a nice, vibrant orange. More like a muddy, rotten orange, an inedible concoction, probably laced with poison for her to see him off once and for all. It sat trembling in the bowl, as if it were alive, or something living was hiding beneath the surface.

"C'mon. It's spiced pumpkin soup," she said, elongating the words, making them sound seductive.

He didn't mind Bulma, but her cooking was disgusting. Would this be any different? He took a spoonful, grimaced as it swilled in his mouth, and spat it out, spraying her face.

**Falling Leaves**

How did he wind up in this situation again? Oh, she'd bribed him with sex, which, in honesty, didn't _usually_ work, but he'd just finished training and his adrenaline was soaring, so that's kind of how this happened. She walked alongside him, arms crossed tightly, constantly complaining about the cold, when it was her God damn idea to go for a _walk_ anyway. Finally, she stopped, looked up at the sky and smiled, leaves twizzling and falling around her. He waited, sighed, and her warm hand wrapped around his forearm, linking them together. He did _think_ about pushing her away. 

**Hibernation**

Interviewer: So, how would you say your time at Capsule Corp has been?

Vegeta: None of your damn business.

Interviewer: Ok, um, but, you're settled?

Vegeta: Settled? Don't make me laugh.

Interviewer: Then … why are you still here?

Vegeta, glancing over at Bulma, smirking: Good services.

Bulma: _What?_

Vegeta: You heard me, woman.

Interviewer, clearing throat: So, Miss Bulma Briefs has something to do with your decision to stay?

Vegeta, holding Bulma back: Who is this? Who allowed him in here?

Interviewer: You did?

Vegeta, throwing Bulma over his shoulder: C'mon, woman, we're going to bed … to _hibernate._


End file.
